


Unspoken Forgiveness

by Dienophile



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, M/M, Male Slash, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dienophile/pseuds/Dienophile
Summary: Occurs at end of Witcher 2 and leads into Witcher 3 (spoilers for both), bit more of a character study then anything. Two tired bloody men trying to find a future and dealing with the horrors of the past. Iorveth finds out that Saskia believes him a monster without hope of forgiveness and goes on an odd quest to find his own version of peace.





	1. Irredeemable

“Why did you come back to Vergen?” Saskia sat in a chair, crown adorning her golden hair, the plate metal substituted for an elegant red dress. She had always seemed regal, the change of wardrobe acted however to enhance the new change. 

“Most of my units are here, Saskia they could be useful. War is on the horizon, having an army is more valuable than ever. One must deter the black ones from trying to invade, well them along with everyone else. Before you had only Henselt, but believe me that Radovid is just as bad if not worse. Beyond him, Empyr is a sly deceitful prick. Neither will hesitate to reclaim this land. You’ve seen what Radovid’s witch hunters do to non-humans. This kingdom is new, fragile, it requires help. ” Iorveth was passing, irritation visible on his face, making the scar seem worse. 

“I understand that the world is an uncertain place, and your people will always a place here. However we need labourers, farmers, craftsmen and bricklayers now. The city has to rebuild, grow anew. When winter comes we must have food stored away.” Saskia’s voice was calming, her gaze steady. “So I ask again, why come back to Vergen?” 

“Saskia you can’t hope to hold the city together with smiles no matter how sweet! Humans are like horses, they must be organised, led and commanded if they are to be useful. Not to mention they both are skittish and will abandon their commander unless well trained. You need proper elven warriors here. You need to be ready for war! Yes push the cattle back to the fields were they can be useful, but get them out of your city. When Nilfgaard knocks on your door, they will open it.” 

“There are few things I would like to do less then debate human psychology with you. I know them, and trust them. For now, we must live in peace. All of us. We deserve that at least. That means I can’t be seen to treat any of my people as lesser than others.” She stood, crossing arms. The calm look was fading away. 

Iorveth averted his good eye, a soft growl coming out. “I believe people should be treated exactly as they deserve. Elven blood helped give you this throne, do not turn your back on us now. Or perhaps living with the cattle has made you think like them.” 

“You bring up a good point, of treating people exactly as they deserve. So I ask again, why visit Vergen?” She seemed to put undue emphasis on the word ‘visit’. 

Understanding dawned on him, “I am only acceptable as a visitor? Oh yes, how patheticly human of you Saskia. Glad to see you’ve learned their humble art of lies. Yes you act sweet, bat your eyelashes when help is required but now that crown has taken away your memory. Perhaps it is a bit too tight.” 

“You wanted me to grant you forgiveness Iorveth, you wanted this one single good act to wash you clean. It is not that easy. I thank you for your assistance, but this new kingdom can’t be seen to host terrorists. There is no home here for the irredeemable.” She looked a tad sad, but resolute, straight in her throne. 

“Then it was all for nothing! I would have died for you!” The anger was bubbling up. 

“That doesn’t make you a good person. Now leave me, this conversation is making me sad. You may leave anytime in the next few weeks. Rest until then. That at least I owe you.” She sat down, waving towards the door. The audience was over.


	2. A duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a blood moon, a shared dream leads to a moment of companionship

That had been months ago, months of aimless wandering. The warmth of summer had left, the shorter days signalling the approaching cold. He let his people settle, that at least was owed them. Perhaps the isolation would help, the silence offered no opinions. The woods did not accuse, or turn him away. Instead of this giving solace, it solidified the emptiness inside. Hate was poison, but it was better them emptiness. Better to feel something rather than nothing.   
It was a cool day in October when the blood moon rose. That night he slept in the open, under the stars and dreamt. 

It was a human inn, yet it was also curiously the opposite of that. The furniture was all elven, the walls painted soft wooden greens. He entered, it was homey yet foreign. Soft music came through the open windows. Flowers seem to grow through the floor, moss covered the ceiling. Oddly the sunlight seem unimpeded by the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. It was empty, well except for one person, sitting at the bar. He jumped when the elf entered, looking confused and angry. The flowers around him grew as the elf walked, blooming into white lilies. 

“Iorveth!” The former commander put a hand to find no weapons, then looked confused at his apparel. It was elven clothes, expect all in blues. The silver chain still hung around his neck but hair hung loose, a deep brown with hints of white. He stood up, whirling around, a man drowning, grasping at anything. 

“Hello again Roche.” The elf felt oddly no fear, this was a dream after all. He continued to approach, hands out to reveal he was also unarmed. 

“What the fuck, why, who...Where is this?” Vernon gestured at the walls, ceiling them himself. 

“This is a dream, one of mine. No need to freak out, though I suppose no elf has ever shared a dream with you before.” He sat down, looking at the empty bar, making himself comfortable at the beautiful elven stool. 

“A dream? That’s impossible, I’m in Vizima, plus I’ve never seen this place before” 

“I am not surprised at your lack of ability to understand, dh’oine have little mental capacity. We however can create shared dreams, mystical instances. Consider it a great honor really. For such acts, the other party hardly needs to be close. It helps of course, but the blood moon tends to amplify natural magic.” 

“It’s your dream! Why drag me in?” The man angrily sat down. “Fuck can you at least make a drink appear?” 

“Behind the bar, there should be something, well a bottle better then your usual standards. Or do you only drink elven blood?” 

The human jumped easily over. He made a soft yell of success and pulled out a clear bottle filled with amber liquid and two glasses. He poured liberally, not offering to pass the second cup over. He seemed to take small satisfaction in causing the elf to move. It tasted oddly sweet, but warm. A pleasant drink, it suited the room. The human stayed behind the bar. He ignored the earlier barb, instead surveilled the room again. 

“Where is this? In reality.” He took a long sip of drink, appearing more curious than confrontational. 

“It no longer exists, but used to be in the north. An inn that allowed all people in, I remember it fondly. Though it was burned down, full of people. This is a fantasy version of its potential mixed with memories. ” He put down the glass, still trying to figure this out. It had been far too long since he had shared a dream with anyone, and never a human. It felt oddly out of his control. 

“Why am I here? For shits?” 

“I am not sure, perhaps I summoned you without meaning to. It was not intentional, that I promise.” 

“Then make me leave.” 

“That occurs when either of us wake up, obviously. It is a dream.” 

A grumbled curse word, then his face seem to soften. “It’s a nice place, quiet, calm. I think I know that tune.” The former commander put down his now empty glass, refilling it. The light made his hair show hints of red. 

That got a look of surprise. “It’s a very old elvish tune, a traditional one.” 

“It’s about losing home.” 

“I believe it’s about a tree burning down, an ancient one and realizing there will be another its equal. Something you invaders did with no regard to history or its innate magic. Or perhaps that was the purpose, to uproot us.”   
“Fuck I know that’s what the words are, but I thought it was really about lossing home and understanding that nothing can equal that. Well nothing can ever hurt like that anyway.” 

“Never took you for a connoisseur in elvish tunes. Thought you prefer to rip out tongues” Iorveth took a moment to study his face. He remembers how he had hated he found the human handsome, but at this moment, it was a nice realization. 

Roche laughed, an odd sound. “I am not, a woman where I grew up loved that song. She used to sing it during the fall, and only then. Plus ripping tongues was more similar to your brands of mutilation then mine.” He stared off, then suddenly looked up. “Hey will I remember any of this? Will you? How do these dream things work?” 

“I am not sure, I have not shared a dream for a long time. Never with a dh’oine, thought their minds incapable of it.” 

They sat drinking in silence, the song ended on a long sad note. Iorveth looked into the empty cup, trying to not wallow. The emptiness was growing again and he had to stop it, block it by any possible means. There had to be a solution, perhaps this dream was trying to hint at it. 

“What are you hoping to achieve Roche?” He stared up from the drink, noticing how enticing elven clothes framed the other. He was broad but not aggressively so, a body built by conflict, strong. 

“Fuck like in general or specific? Also you are a shit interrogator if you think I’ll spill anything.” 

“I could care less about all those royal secrets you hold, or their like. I am curious how Vernon Roche sees his life ending.” 

“I expect to die stabbed in a ditch if that’s what you’re asking. Go out fighting.” Vernon gave a dark chuckle, looking down at his own worn hands. Callouses showed hints at their uses.

“What if you don’t?” The elf poured himself a second drink, hands shaking. Nerves seemed to have taken over but for reasons he couldn’t discern. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? I guess an arrow is as likely an ending. From you I suppose, or a stray. Fate is rarely so poetic to normal soldiers. Ballads aren’t written about real wars for a reason.” 

He looked up to meet the human’s gaze. “What if you don’t die in war.” He needed an answer, wanted to feel free to ask about the emptiness. 

“Then I am the luckiest pile of shit that ever lived.” He snorted again, a slight smile. As though the possibility was an amusing joke, a lighthearted jest. 

“Are you? The longer it goes the more I realize I may not just die suddenly in battle.” Iorveth felt the nerves returning. He needed to explain, needed to share. Somehow he felt sure that this human would comprehend his greatest fear, not ridicule it. This stupid, horrible, brutish, beautiful human. 

“I could fix that you know.” He was looking for another bottle, but the comment was serious. 

“You do not understand. Here, does dying scare you?” He would make him see the world his way! 

He was expecting a snort or rude answer not a look of concern. The human sighed and opened a second bottle, pouring them both a serving. “Yes and no. Nothingness is I suppose terrifying but at the same time, it also looks like a nice end.” Roche noticed at that moment how the lilies were spreading across the floor. “It’s what’s left behind that matters anyway.” 

“It is not dying that terrifies me. I may live long enough to see all my ideals gone, all my comrades dead. I may see the end of my civilization, or worse the end of my culture. There could be a day where cross breeding means that no true elves exist anymore. They might all live in cities and act human. Then I would be an outsider, no longer needed. Or perhaps there will be a peace, and Roche I have never known peace.” The voice was starting to become panicked. He did not notice the eye patch vanishing. 

“The worst part of war isn’t the blood, or cruelty. For a soldier anyway, its at the end when you realize you can’t do anything else. The cruelty and blood is all you have.” Roche looked at him oddly, his voice steady as though talking to one of his own soldiers. He seemed used to such outbursts of existential crisis. 

“Then the peace it was all for is meaningless, for creatures of war do not live in peace, they can’t. I will be trapped! You dh’oine took everything from me, my eye, and now my soul. All for a world that will not accept me, not that I could accept it.” He blinked, two green eyes in his head. 

The sun shining through spoke of twilight, bathing them in soft reds and oranges. Another song had started, it seemed equally sad, but a duet this time. Iorveth seemed to simply stare, the human’s clothing changed before his eyes, turning black and covered in golden suns. 

“Why are you in Vizima?” He motioned towards the new wardrobe, keeping eye contact. 

Roche almost smiled, hinting at a laugh. “Selling myself for Temeria.” 

“Literally?” He jumped up abruptly, an odd feeling of anger and concern flooded him. After such nothingness, the change made him sway. 

“Sort of, making a deal with Nilfgaard to make Temeria a free state. You’ll learn soon enough, but it’s time for the war to end.” He took a long swing of drink, seeming to wash down the distast of that statement. 

“Vernon Roche is compromising.” 

“Go ahead and fucking laugh, call me the usual names but gods damn it all. I am tired Iorveth, I don’t want to smell death surrounding me anymore.Plus you of all people know I’d do anything for Temeria.” 

“It was not meant as an insult. Will you be back in their court?” 

“Don’t expect so, they will make me guard borders, deal with roaming pact of Redenian soldiers. Most people don’t like regicides hanging around. Big fucking surprise that. That or after this treaty is signed I’ll be tossed in a prison to rot.” 

“I doubt you will, you are shockingly difficult man to be rid of. Your persistence is one of your more irritating yet impressive traits.” The compliment felt oddly natural to give, as easy as the insults. 

“You calling someone stubborn? That’s one trait you have in heaps.” 

IOrveth let the comment slide, leaving the next sentence unsaid. Well until Vernon Roche surprised him again. 

“Guess that’s why Foltest put me up to it. He gave me the job to hunt you by saying that we were similar, should make it easier. Shockingly it didn’t. Made it more infuriating.” 

Iorveth leaned over the bar, causing the human to back up a bit. Still their faces were far closer together, the elf was giving him an oddly intense stare. His gaze descended from the human’s eyes to his mouth. Without breaking his gaze, the elf jumped elegantly until he was sitting on the bar, legs hanging out on the human’s side. He extended a hand to cup the human’s face, it was done slowly, giving the man time to retreat if he wanted. He did not. The music outside took a happier note. The elf moved a hand up to play with strands of dark hair, it was surprisingly soft. He felt the nervousness fade as he pressed in for a kiss, it was chaste, short. 

It allowed for the second one, Vernon moving closer to pull the elf into his warmth. One hand held the back of the elf’s head as their kiss deepened. The human was surprisingly gentle, his rough hands tightening their grip. He released him, moving into kissing his exposed neck, tongue tracing down the vine tattoo. 

“Always wondered what you’d taste like.” Roche murmured, voice deep. 

“And?” 

A slight laugh against his skin, “It's good, sort of sweet.” 

Iorveth leaned into the warmth, it was replacing all other feelings. He imagined this was what drugs felt like, numbing all other feeling then replacing them with heat. Arousal pooled in his gut, but something deeper was demanding as well. It wanted to possess, to hold, to taste, to fill but yet be filled in return. It screamed for sex, to feel connected. Kisses ran up his neck, hands roaming, and it was wonderful but not enough. 

The room did an odd sudden jolt, causing them to break apart. Iorveth looks around to see the building slowly fading away. The dream was ending, he was waking up. He leaned forward, urgent now and clinging to the warmth. 

“Find me Vernon. I can’t bear the emptiness!” The room was mostly gone now, colours fading to white. The song ended, with only a single flute note into the growing void. 

He awoke, the cool dew settling over his form. The woods was empty and he was alone.


	3. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vernon Roche is a man who follows through on things.

Spring came late that year, they said it was the gods punishing the human's endless wars. It would forever be known as the hungry winter, as starvation ravaged the war-torn lands. The summer had been plagued with combat, no young man left to plant fields, then all were dead before the fall harvest. The warmth of a spring sun was a relief to all those left, they stared up with thin faces and thanked their deities for finally showing mercy. Cursing one moment and thanking the next, it never made sense to a chilled commander. 

Roche urged his horse on, down the muddy path, a cold wind cutting through. He pulled the fur-trimmed cloak closer, trying to maintain any heat left. Stiff fingers held reins, they ached from the unforgiving winter they had endured. He was alone that morning, having left the nearby camp two days previously. The local governor wasn't sad to see him go. Still he pushed forwards, a folded report weighing him down. He moved with purpose, yet wearing none of his usual colours. Chaperon gone, replaced by a dark hood, pulled down to cover his face. 

It was nightfall before he reached the encampment on the forest's edge. A soldier rushed out, well sort of soldier, he had no uniform on. More likely a mercenary, a man who found out war was his only true profession. 

"State your business!" He called, waving a crossbow around, trying to seem intimidating. 

Terrible discipline, ought to have better form, Roche smiled to himself. "I am here to speak to your commander. Personal business." He dismounted, but did not remove his hood. 

"I'll need a name." The man tried to look tough, puffing out his chest. 

"Tell him that a patriot and son of a bitch is here to see him." 

The man raised an eyebrow but left, calling other a comrade to keep an eye on the former blue stripes commander. It took a moment, then two figures returned, one was laughing merrily. He stood taller, still dressed like a common bandit but better equipped. 

"Got balls coming here alone." He nodded a greeting, gesturing for the Temerian to follow him into the camp. He nodded at the two mercenaries to allow pursuit. 

Roche dumped the horse's reins on the first former solider's hands with a look promising pain should the horse be harmed. Pulling the cloak closer he followed. He had a hand on a sword, but walked with confidence. 

"Honestly didn't think you'd come, bit of a fucking long stretch i thought. But then again who else holds grudges like you do?" He laughed again, leading them towards a stone building. "Place used to be a villa of some sort, maybe a rich shit lived here. Converted his old wine cellar into a little holding cell for unwanted guests." 

"Resourceful as ever Voymir." He let the hood hide more face as they passed a group of now mercenaries. "Shame you managed to be on the wrong side." 

"Depends on your point of view. Radivid was an ass but he let us keep treasure, and whores we took. Trained us well for future careers as it were. Now our only side is the one filled with gold, which happens to be all of them." He stopped at the locked door to the stone building, pulling out a key. The jailor nodded then moved aside. 

"Amusing." 

"Yet you aren't laughing!" The man showed him in, allowing the commander to go first. "Last cell on the left. Little shit caused us no end of grief. Boys have been having fun with him for the moment." 

"How'd you catch him?" The man's voice was steady, removing a torch on the wall before moving deeper inside. He grimaced internally at a table covered in poorly cleaned torturing supplies.

"Caught some elf bitch, luckily he was nearby, heard the screaming. Took down a bunch of us, but they didn't want the girl to die. Used that to catch him. Simple really." Voymir shrugged.

"Where's the girl?" 

"Dead, managed to smash her head open on a wall." He stopped at the last cage and turned to the iron bars, unlocking them. It was a small, damp and dark cell. It stank of blood, urine and vomit. A single figure was curled up in the far corner, chained to the wall. 

"So about our deal." Voymir turned, his eyes glittering, malicious. 

"Need to check first." Roche pushed past, and squatted down beside the huddled form. He pushed matted hair aside to find a face, cupped it and looked. The face could belong to no other, the scar down one side and missing eye were obvious. He was thin, tired looking but the green eye recognized him. A silent plea. "It's him." Roche dropped the face and stood back up. "Near dead though." 

"Lads had fun with him. Now as we agreed Vernon." 

Roche pulled out a small pile of envelopes, tied neatly together. "All there." He threw the pile at the man. He rifled through them impatient. The commander watched him carefully. 

"Ought to kill you instead." The mercenary leader mused aloud. 

"Your former employer has found that a sentiment not worth the effort. I am a nasty shit to try and get rid of. We done here?" 

The man smiled, a cruel look on his face, one hand on the cage door. "I could just close this and lock it, or call to my men. See if you take as long to scream." He had the look of a man used to being in control, the one with power. 

"Voymir listen." His voice had gone conversational. "We passed a table of tools on the way here, you must have used them." He gestured to a bench in the nearby cell. 

"Course Vernon, want a demonstration?" The cruel smile answered his own opinion on the matter. 

"They weren't designed properly. The small hooks you had? The barbs had been removed, that rather defeats the point. They go through the finger nails then placed on the ends of chains, and into the walls. More effective then cuffs. Each time the prisoner struggles the hooks move. It makes them do it to themselves, they lie there knowing their own cowardice is displaced as mutilations over their hands. Effective tool, I could give you a proper lesson on how to hurt others." 

The man had gone very quiet. His face a little white, grip loosening on the door.   
"You see Voymir you play at being a torturer, it's a game to you. To me it's an art. Now you're going to give me the key to these chains, and we are both going to leave. Get in my way and I will show you what a professional is capable of. Think you can stop me? I've killed kings Voymir, I watched Radovid die screaming. Your precious former boss Dijkstra tried to cross me and now he lies 5ft under. Now give the key and get the fuck out of my way." His voice never raised, the gaze remained steady. 

The man tosses over a key and watched mute as he unlocked the elf and scooped him up. He pushed passed, carrying him out and past all those outside. The mercenaries stared uncertain as he passed, elf curled up in his arms. There was a tense silence until he reached the edge, were a hose was waiting. He threw the elf up first. 

"I'm letting you get away whoreson, but I'll be back!" Voymir seemed to have found his voice again, but it lacked any real confidence. 

Roche jumped up behind the elf, one arm supporting him to prevent a collapse. He turned the creature around and kicked sides. "Yes Voymir, I'm giving you two days to get out of Temeria before I burn this place down, run now. Run far away." He moved them into a gallop. 

The camp had long faded from sight when his heart rate finally slowed, the elf was making small pained noises. He loosed the arm around a waist. "Found you." The whisper was directly into an ear before the elf passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know little about Voymir's true character as only part way through the books right now. He did used to work for Dijkstra. Not great at intimidation writting so hope this works out


	4. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iorveth is not known for being the nicest to get along with.

Iorveth awoke in a bed, a warm soft one. He tried to sit up but found himself stiff, sore, a throbbing pain under his skin. He gave up and relaxed back down, instead looked around the room. It was simple, looked like one in a human inn. Well except for the table covered in medical supplies, many opened and some half used. It gave the room a faint herbal smell. The sun streaked through a nearby window, bathing the room in light. He tried to speak but found his mouth felt like sawdust, unable to make a sound. 

The door opened, a woman walked in holding a small tray. She was dressed in bright colours and a revealing cut, though it looked oddly cheap. Her face had too much make up and she filled the room with cheap perfume. 

"Well look who's up!" She had a chipper voice, a smile too big, too fake.   
"Water." He managed to choke out. 

"Of course!" A waterskin was handed down and slowly drained. She put down another bottle next to him, this one smelled fainted herbal and was a dull yellow colour. "That's for the pain. Lets see, bathroom is door right there and I was told you get food tonight but you should keep sleeping for now. Oh and try not to move as the stitches could tear." She seemed to be remembering a list. Once finished she put down her tray and left. Fake smile still plastered on her face. 

Dinner turned out to be plentiful but bland, not that the elf much cared. He drank stew with almost abandoned. The next visitor had tried to change bandages and had been scared off, he was more than capable of doing such tasks alone. Still it was awkward, but better than being touched by a human. He was trying to undue the one around his chest when the door opened, well unlocked. 

Roche laughed at the contortionist act occurring. "Would be really fucking funny if you managed to break your own spine after all this." He closed the door behind him but made no move to offer assistance. He made himself comfortable leaning against the wall. 

"You dh'oine are more likely to poison a wound anyway with your backwards medicine." Even to himself the insult lacked passion. He was in pain, sore and weak. He lay on the floor, desperately trying to finish up and cover himself. 

"Course, no please continue to struggle. I haven't seen a show this good in years." 

Ioverth tried but felt the near tearing and flooding of pain. He ground his teeth before finally looking up to meet the human's eyes. "I may require some assistance." 

"Oh? Asking for help? I think i might need you to sign a portrait of this moment." Still smiling the human leaned down to start removing a bandage. Rough hands replaced the salve and started wrapping it again with fresh bandages. 

"Go die in a muddy ditch." Iorveth leaned back, trying not to enjoy the moment, any distraction from the pain. 

He dropped the shirt back down, "Yes well you are in no position to give threats." He half lifted the elf back onto a bed, despite a yelp of protest. "I believe you were told to stay still and heal." 

"Yes your whore mentioned something about that." He leaned back into the soft sheets, trying not to show visible relaxation. 

Roche leaned over to look through vials, opening a yellowish one. "Yes I am told you were quite rude, I wonder if that pride will poison you one day. This is a painkiller." He handed over the vial.   
The elf emptied the contents, lacking some of his usual grace.

"Yes you expect me to be gracious? When you get incompetent human cum-bags to play as healers and keep the door locked? Still scared of me?" 

The commander was looking through and uncorked a blue vial next, his face quite steady. "This should accelerate the normal healing process. Its a half serving as you look pretty starved and these things are fucking brutal." The elf took it, making a face at the bitter taste. 

The commander turned to leave, his shoulders slumping, fatigue written all over his body. "The door is so no one will find you, or stumble in." He left, the argument simply ignored. 

The elf was left alone. For three days, he had little contact. The same girl brought in huge plates of food, four times a day, no smile this time. Each tray had more bandages, salves and tonics but she offered no assistance. She placed her tray in the room and left, no comments, avoiding all eye contact. By the third day he was able to use the bathroom properly and wash, even though they had only sad human soaps. After that the girl brought in a box along with her tray but offered no explanation, running away before any questions could be asked. It held clothes, books and flute. The clothes were an odd assortment of earth tones, nothing fancy, nothing new but all clean and soft. The books were equally random, different languages and topics but it was something as boredom was becoming a real problem. 

On the fourth day the commander visited again, this time holding a bow in one hand, his bow. The elf immediately pulled it away, inspecting it for any damages. Other than some human blood, it looked whole. Needed to be restrung and oiled but beautiful as ever. 

"Ves for a moment had a debate of simply keeping it." 

"As though a piece of human shit could use it properly." He ran fingers lovingly along its length, his attention focused on his weapon. 

"I'll be sure to pass on the gratitude." Roche snorted but moved inside to inspect his room. It certainly smelt less like death, and the elf had a clear neat streak. He also seemed to be part way through a book on Northern epic poems, it was half open on the bed. "You seem to be healing." 

"Despite your best efforts yes." He placed the bow gently down and sat on the bed, looking at his standing guest. 

"What else would help?" 

The elf laughed, "oh maybe better food, a salve of willow, some proper soaps, a chair, a comb and death of the entire human race. Oh perhaps a linseed oil to fix my bow and a new string with wax." 

Roche simply nodded, looking grim again. "Can't do much about my species." He turned and left, leaving behind a confused looking elf. 

The girl had another box the next morning, but was followed by a second figure bringing in a chair and a basket. The initial girl quickly fled to stand by the door as her companion unslung a basket. She was equally as made up, in a deep blue dress that ended mid thigh. Her hair was tied back to better show off pointed ears. She seemed nervous, not wanting to meet his eyes as he put the book down. Early morning reads had become a small pleasure. 

"I was unsure what sort of scents you liked." She spoke in hesitant elder speech, still avoiding direct eye contact. She held out the basket to be inspected. 

It was full of vials, and soaps, some half used and some brand new. She was visibly shaking as he pulled one out and undid the stopper. 

"It's lemongrass, my mother said it was good for complexion." Her voice had become a whisper. 

"I was once told the same, a long time ago. Be at ease sister, I will not hurt you. Which is not being used?" He tried to sound calming, though the effect was not working. 

"The sandalwood, it was just made. I am not as fond of the finished product." She pulled out three vials and a bar of soap, quickly handing them over and rushing out, obviously happy to be away. Her friend quickly followed her, hurriedly locking the door behind them. 

It was the commander who brought in the last tray of the day, he tried to suppress the slight smile. The elf had been so lifeless at first, so dead. Here he was, glistening almost in soft green clothes sitting cross legged on the floor. His bow was carefully half on his lap, as he ran an oily cloth up, cleaning it, polishing the surface. He meet Roche's gaze for a moment before returning to his work.   
"It's a beautiful weapon." He put the tray down, but removed a second cup and filled it with the lemon hinted water he had brought. He leisurely sat down in the new chair, still staring at the elf. 

"Older than your parents, probably grandparents, if they are even still alive." 

"None of them are, well honestly have no idea. Never exactly knew my father." He had an oddly melancholic tone, sipping his drink. “Fuck should have brought something stronger.” 

The elf snorted, "How easy it is to forget. Tell me, is this whorehouse reminding you of home?" He looked up from his work. 

"Fuck you." He kept the gaze. 

The elf rose and walked over, but seemed to stop with a foot between them. He seemed to move onto a different topic. "Why get a dh'oine to help me if one of my own kind was nearby?" 

"Tried, she refused. Terrified of you." Roche looked a bit surprised by this turn of conversation.

"I do not kill elves, not ones forced into this degree of humiliation for human sport. I would prefer to rip the fingers off every single dh'oine who thought they could touch her, or any of us." 

"She claimed she liked this job, or at least tolerated it. Apparently you would take that fact poorly." 

"It's a lie, no one can enjoy human contact." He shrugged. 

Roche suddenly stood up and closed the distance, wrapping an arm around the elf's waist and pulling him close. The commander felt the slight adrenaline, the elf was weak but still lethal at this point. Any sudden action would be foolish. However now he felt the warmth in his arms, the feeling of hot breath and it would be hard to let go. Plus the elf smelt lovely. 

"No one?" A murmur.

"Let go Roche." 

The elf offered no physical resistance nor did he try to remove himself from the embrace. Instead of leaving, Roche buried a face into the other's neck, breathing in his smell, pressing a kiss near his pulse. The elf tensed, his heart rate increasing, the next kiss moving around his neck, leaving a trail up to his mouth. Before claiming lips Roche paused, moving a hand behind the elf's head. 

"Tell me to stop." An order. 

The elf moved, crushing their mouths together. He moved to pull off the humans chaperon and fist brown hair underneath. The elf tried to keep his eagerness in check as groping hands ran down his back, one settling on his hips, pulling their bodies closer. After a long kiss, the elf made the move to push them both towards the bed, collapsing down together, the elf on top. 

"Still don't want to touch humans?" Roche whispered, voice low and full of want. He ran a hand down to start undoing the elf's shirt, on hand on his backside grinding them together. He moved back up to suck on his collarbone. 

The elf was quiet for a moment, as the commander rolled on top of his, removing the soft green shirt. He looked up to see the human staring at him, eyes cloudy with lust, one hand roaming up his bare chest then tracing along his tattoo. He let the human have his moment before rolling back to straddle him, quickly working to pull off the commander's shirt and any armour left. It took a moment but he ran his hands up skin at the end. Roche claiming a mouth again, roaming a tongue around the insides, one hand moving up the elf's thigh. The elf made a pleasant noise, stirred by confidence Roche moved up and licked his ears, nipping the tips. The elf buckled, now grinding hard against the now desperately hard length , running his own against it. 

"Fuck, want you to ride me." Roche whispered hoarsely, burying his head on the elf's neck, breathing in his smell. 

"Is that how i repay you?" Iorveth laugh, running a hand down the man's back. "You saved me to plough me, would explain the setting." 

It stopped, almost immediately, Roche throwing him off. He was obviously panting, looking still aroused yet furious. He scooped up a shirt and leans against the wall close to the door, catching his breath. The elf looked a bit confused, now sitting up. 

"Leaving? I thought you humans only ever thought about sex, but to leave before it even starts? Though I suppose you aren't young." Iorveth leaned against the wall, slight smile on his face. 

"Fuck you, just fuck you." Roche took a breath then punched the wall hard, his knuckles now bloody. 

"You could have." 

"I would never force you, fuck that you'd think that about me. Fine, gods damn it. Leave, just leave, go back into the woods and starve. I tried, I ploughing tried. I am tired elf, too much blood, too much for a lifetime. Thought you were being honest in that dream, showing something real. Fuck I thought this was what you wanted." Roche stumbled over his words, angry and humiliated. He left, slamming the door, leaving a confused elf.


	5. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two find each other and learn what it means to fill someone.

Roche was folding clothes, his own room in a different section of the inn. It was small, dark and smelt a bit damp. He managed to get a real room as a benefit of the job. His own soldiers were on their leave, enjoying two weeks of free time before regrouping. The relative stability in Temeria meant the local bars and whorehouses were enjoying a rush of customers. Still it hadn't been much of a holiday. He turned, having taking off armour to be in a simple cotton shirt and leggings. Perhaps a shave would be a good idea, something to do. 

He was whipping off the last of the cream when a cold breath of wind caused him to turn. Roche pulled up, certain he had closed the window, holding the razor like a weapon. He stopped suddenly, as an elf slipped through the window, closing it behind him. 

"Put away the blade, I am not here to fight." 

Several moments later, Iorveth was looking up at the ceiling, one hand gripping the bed's cloth knuckles white. The other hand was directly on the human's chest, moving up to grip his hair. Iorveth arched his back, moaning helplessly as the human thrust again, hitting something truly pleasurable inside him. His toes curled up, one leg hooked over the humans shoulder. He could hear the human panting, groaning desperately, his thrusts becoming ragged. 

Iorveth leaned forward to kiss the man, it was sloppy and breathy but he leaned back, pushing back. He felt the human buckle, his climax quickly approaching. The human was intensely warm, causing his skin to burn, a heat which seeped deep inside. He looked down, watching the human pushing himself inside of him. Hands held him, touched him, hot breath covering his sweat covered body. 

"Fuck you're gorgeous." Roche ran a finger down his swirling tattoo, finishing with one last long push. He groaned loudly into his climax, burying himself as deep as possible. 

He ran a hand down the elf's throbbing cock, finishing him off with a few strokes. The elf’s climax covering his own chest. They both stayed still for a moment, each consumed in their own orgasm before slowly moving apart. 

Iorveth lay in the bed, rolling onto his stomach and staring at the human. Roche was cleaning up, looking oddly relaxed. He threw the towel over, letting the elf do the same. The elf moved over, giving room for the commander to lie down next to him. The room stunk of sex and oil, a pleasent smell. 

"How did you get my equipment back?" Iorveth rolled over, using the human's shoulder as a pillow. His voice was calm, sleepy, satisfied. He was pleasantly warm. 

"From the mercenaries that caught you." Roche murmured into the elf's hair, running a hand up his back. An odd reverence to the act, gentle and lover like. 

"They kept it?" 

"Its iconic, thought they could sell it." 

"You killed them." 

"Yes,right after getting you. Handed you off to an old friend to heal while I handled the camp. You smell nice.” He murmured, starting to kiss and nibble the nearest ear. 

"Sandalwood. How did you find me?" 

"I kept an eye on you after you asked me to find you. Put out a large reward for people who had information. Worked with spies. Now helping run an intelligence group. Got told when you were caught. Offered them a reward, then cleaned up the mess. You have too many questions.” 

"Why all that work?" He moaned slightly as licked traveled up to play with the point of his ears.   
Roche laughed. "You asked me to find you. Why did you do that?" He rolled the elf on top of him, running hands down his body, noticing the elf’s growing arousal. 

"Because you understand me, know what it is to never have forgiveness.” He moved himself to take the human inside himself, rolling his hips slowly. 

“Stay with me.” Roche moaned, open mouthed panting as they ploughed slowly. 

“Help me find a home.” He started to pick up the pace, coaxing the man into thrusting. He arched his back causing a hard intake of breath. 

“Where?” 

“Somewhere with unspoken forgiveness.” He leaned down to kiss his partner, learning what this growing pleasant feeling. It was the approaching climax, the arousal, the joy of sex but also the comfort of contact. He could learn to love this man. 

“Of course, of fucking course, my beautiful bloody elf.” 

Iorveth smiled into his climax, the emptiness feeling not returning this time. Something else had taken it’s place, for now, it was hope. The human held his gaze, mirroring his own sentiment back, he could grow used to this. They would have plenty of time to figuring it out. He wished to start by visiting an old favourite spot in the woods, a beautiful lake near an old maple. They could have sex under the stars and the branches of a tree, this time the lack of judgement could be shared. There was that feeling of hope again, an elegant duet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well first fic! Not easy to write and probably didn't edit enough but hope it's alright! Any comments would be great!

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever posted Fanfic so hope it is alright! Always enjoyed these two but wanted a bit more of a character arch from Iorveth in the second game. Figured Iorveth deserves to know what Saskia truly thought of him at the end.


End file.
